Lost
by aforgottenwish
Summary: A few years after Superman Returns, and finally, Superman gets a chance to say what's been on his mind. Collaboration with Shado Librarian.
1. Chapter 1

Superman Returns doesn't belong to me. No profit is being made. Don't sue, etc.

A/N: This scene has been playing on a loop in my head for about three days now. I figure now that's I've written it down, I might be able to start studying for my exams. Anyhow, if anyone thinks it should be continued, let me know. Warning: character death.

Also, in response to an anonymous comment left for me... this is rated "T". That means that its suitable for those over 13. There is swearing, as mentioned in the summary. So pleeease don't get yourself in over your head! Sometimes... language hurts. So if the F-word makes you cry, go somewhere else!

For everyone else, I'm sorry. I would have replied to the individual, but like I said, there was no one to respond to. Happy reading!

Lost

He was there, suddenly, standing on the balcony of her apartment. She was struck again, by how absolutely gorgeous he was. She had never encountered a human who even came close to his ethereal beauty.

But his blue eyes were clouded with tears; his jaw was set as though he were holding back a storm. For the first time in his life, his hands trembled.

"Superman," she said, moving toward him. Their son slept in the bed of the small apartment; Lois had been camping on the sofa. And, though Superman had visited them nearly every night for the past year, she had never seen him like this; never seen him betray a hint of emotion. Since Richard had left her, she had cried in his arms and he had remained stoic and comforting.

"No," he said, taking a step back, to the edge of the balcony, his back against the rail. He looked as though he were about to fly away. He looked terrified.

"Superman," she said again, the name too formal in her mouth. She had never asked for a true name; she had never even come close. "What happened?"

"Please," he said, his voice quiet, with none of the deep confidence he usually resonated, "don't call me that."

She knew, suddenly, that she had waited too long. She should have asked sooner, should have seen through his complacent mask; should have demanded for the name of her son's father. He was offended; now, he was angry.

"Why?" she asked softly. She was scared for an answer.

"Because I can't be him right now," he said, slightly louder. "I need to think things that he can't think. I have to say things that Superman can't say."

She could ask him now, she realized, and suddenly she forgot his tear rimmed eyes and the trembling. This was a doorway, she told herself.

"What—" she began, but he held up a shaking hand, stopping her.

"Are—" she began again, meaning, this time to ask if he was hurt, but he interrupted her.

"I need you to listen, Lois," he said. "I've never asked something like that of you before. Can you listen?"

Without speaking, Lois nodded. She was scared now, but a small well of hope bubbled up in her. He was frustrated, as well, she told herself, with the purgatory of their relationship. He wanted to move forward, to move into their tiny apartment with them; to admit that he loved her.

He would, she was sure, tell her what she wanted to hear; that he'd wanted to take his place as Jason's father during daylight hours too; to take him to school in a car instead of taking him covertly flying at nighttime. He wanted to make them breakfast; to save Jason from a lifetime of his mom's bad cooking.

"My mother died," he said, as quietly and unexpectedly as his departure six years ago had been. His lips were tensed in a way she'd never seen before, his upper lip drawing away from the lower, curling in restraint.

"She had a heart attack," he continued. His voice rose slightly, as though hysteria were only a breath away, and he said, "She was alone, Lois. I couldn't get there in time to even say goodbye, let alone try to save her." He gripped the balcony railing and it buckled faintly under the strain.

He drew a breath that might have been a sob and turned away, looking at the skyline of the city against the rising sun. His profile against the red light was perfect.

"I thought," Lois said softly, "that it was before, on Krypton—"

"No," he said, as though determined not to let her finish a thought. "Did you think I just showed up one day, and decided to save the world?" She didn't answer, but let her eyes flutter shut as she imagined a ship, landing far north of here, opening slowly and revealing a tights-clad superhero, his primary coloured suit reflecting copiously in the glazed snow.

He let out a choked, bitter laugh. "I've been here nearly three decades, Lois. Nearly as long as you; certainly as long as I can remember."

Her breath caught halfway through a gasp. He'd never revealed this much to her before, even during their countless interviews, he'd always been evasive on the specifics. She had always assumed that he'd arrived on earth the same day that he'd saved her from the helicopter, just in time to give her a second shot at life and a glimpse of true love.

"My parents made me who I am," he said quietly. "It's not my powers or my suit that made me want to help people."

He turned back to her, and she saw that a tear had escaped, probably only seconds ago, since the glistening line it left was already disappearing on his warm skin.

"My mother… she gave me my compassion, my humanity. I was only ever human until I met you, Lois."

She reached for him, and, for the first time wondered who he truly was. She'd assumed that he rarely rested, and spent all of his time saving people. What else could such a celestial creature possibly do with his time? It wasn't as though he could have a job, just blend in with normal people: his aura practically screamed that he was more than ordinary.

But surely, she thought, that meant that he'd gone to high school, graduated from college. She'd look, as soon as she was at the Planet, through records. If he existed in real life, she'd find him.

"Stay," she said. "Just for the night." She wanted to comfort him; to sleep curled against his chest.

He flinched as though she'd punched him with a Kryptonite fist.

"I can't do this," he said, angry suddenly.

"It's been a year since Richard left me," she said, her anger flaring up as well. He'd held her far away since he'd been back; hadn't blinked when she said she was alone again; he'd never asked to take Richard's place as Jason's father. She wanted him—she wanted all of him. Jason needed him. "I'm ready to move on."

"Lois," he said, his voice stern. "This time it's not about you."

"I forgave you," she said, as though the notion were shocking, "for leaving without saying goodbye."

His jaw clenched, and, for the first time since she'd known him, he yelled. "I said goodbye, Lois. You just looked right through me."

"What are you talking about?" she yelled back. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. She didn't want to wake Jason; she didn't want to fight with Superman, not when he was so obviously hurting.

He looked away again, and the sight of the sun crawling over the high rise buildings seemed to calm him.

"You don't even know me," he said softly. "You say these things: that you love me, but you don't know anything about me past the suit. If I was a normal guy, and wore tweed instead of spandex, you wouldn't even notice me."

"That's not true," she said passionately. She'd loved him first for his eyes, not the fact that he could fly. She'd loved him for his jaw line and his morals and the way he said her name.

"It is true," he said, sounding sad again. Looking into his eyes, drowning in blue, she wished she had the anger back.

"Lois, I see you every day, and I feel like you never even look at me."

She shook her head. She rarely saw him in person during the day; he reserved his visits to just before Jason's bedtime on most nights. "I see you. I'm looking at you right now."

"You see Superman," he corrected, as though explaining addition to a child.

"You are Superman," she said desperately.

A sad, mysterious smile moved across his face briefly. "Not tonight, remember? We made that deal."

She watched him, and felt more lost and confused than she ever had standing this close to him. Usually he brought such stability into their home, brightening Jason's face, kissing her softly on the cheek, returning the hope to her bleak, small apartment.

"I can't do this anymore," he said.

Her head snapped up and she met his eyes, imploring him, as best she could, with her eyes not to continue.

"I'll be here for Jason," he said. "I'll stop by every night."

Confusion swept through her again. "What will change?" she asked, a note of bitterness sneaking into her voice.

He shrugged. It was such an uncharacteristic move that she took a step backward, bumping softly into the balcony door.

"If you ever need me," he said, but then stopped.

"I'll call," she supplemented.

"If you really need me," he amended, "I'll be there for you. But if you ever need me…" he reached out and touched her cheek, their first actual contact that evening. "You'll know where to find me."

A thousand questions danced through her, taunting her, because the finality in his voice, the sternness, prevented her from speaking. She couldn't even begin to imagine how she'd find him. Did he have a house? She'd thought that he'd sleep in the clouds.

"My feelings for you have changed," he said, and Lois's stomach dropped.

"I still love you," he said, "but I'm confused and hurting. I know it's hard for you to believe, Lois, but I can't be invulnerable all the time. And I can't keep being second to Superman."

Lois gaped at him. For a moment, she wondered if he was having an identity crisis. Then, she wondered if maybe the grief of his mother's death had just driven him off the edge. Finally, she just said exactly what had popped into her mind first.

"You are Superman."

He grinned, and it was almost a real grin.

"Not tonight."

Q

She went to work early the next day. She knew that Clark usually got into work an hour before she did, and she would breeze past his desk and he would hand her a large mug of coffee, always miraculously scalding hot and filled to the brim with concentrated caffeine.

Today she needed that normalcy. She needed to pull him aside and spend at least a half hour ranting at him. He'd always been a good listener, and she knew that she didn't treat him like the friend he was, but she'd always considered him her favourite person to abuse. She thought she'd tell him that today; he'd appreciate her bluntness and the rare compliment.

But Clark wasn't at his desk. It wasn't empty though; a very perplexed looking Perry was sitting in the seat, his elbows on the desk and his fingers buried in his thinning hair.

"What's up, Chief?" she asked, not bothering to cover her confusion. She'd been planning on a good day today: she was going to look through college and high school records online; she was going to scrutinize every person that was a regular in her life, and she would find Superman. If she saw him everyday, as he claimed, she wouldn't see through him today.

Somehow, though, she couldn't imagine ever looking at him and not seeing his magnificence. She couldn't imagine him walking into a room, shoulders broad and chin raised, and not creating a stir. He was beautiful, a truly striking man, and a change of clothes wouldn't make a difference in that.

"Clark handed in his resignation today," he said gruffly. "I should never have hired that boy back. He's a brilliant writer but the most unreliable person on the face of this planet."

"Why?" Lois asked. For the second time in the last twenty four hours her stomach churned and she wasn't sure if she was going to throw up this time. Superman had left her, last night; Richard had left last year. Clark, the only person left in her life that truly cared about her, was gone too.

"His mother died yesterday," Perry said. Lois's knees gave out suddenly, falling into the chair behind her. "He's gone to Smallville for the funeral. He said he needed to get the farm in order; that he's going to sell it."

"How did she die?" Lois asked, her voice cracking.

"Hell if I know," he replied. He met Lois's eyes, and she realized that there was something seriously complex going on in his mind.

"That goddamned boy," he said. "But then, you must have known, already."

"About his mom?" Lois asked.

"The poor kid was so broken up," Perry continued, as though Lois hadn't said anything. "Eyes bloodshot, as though he'd been crying, or rubbing them, and pulls his glasses off, just for a second, and goes to town on his left eye as though it's offended him and needs to be put out.

"Then," Perry said, "he straightened up, like he was trying to convince himself to be strong, and he looked me right in the eye." He pressed his hands to the side of his head and looked wide eyed at Lois, as though just really comprehending something.

"And fuck if I'd never noticed it before, but it hit me flat in the face the moment he'd closed the door."

"Chief," Lois said softly, the thought slowly aligning in her head. She saw him every day; he was the right height, the right width, and maybe, behind those glasses, the right eyes were hiding. And somehow, Clark Kent had always cared about her in almost the right way; he had always looked at her with almost the same reverence.

"Clark Kent," he said, sounding out each syllable carefully, "is Superman."

Lois stared at him.

They were silent for a long while.

"We can't tell anyone," Perry said, as though this notion had just now come to him, and he sounded as though someone had just snuffed the life out of his favourite puppy.

"This is too complicated, Perry," Lois said softly. "This is all too real."

She slumped into her chair, and they stared just past each other. Lois thought about yesterday, and how everything she'd ever wanted had been so close. Superman: her ideal untouchable one time lover, and Clark Kent, sitting next to her at work… Clark could have been her reality. He could have been a real father to her son; to their son.

She let out a desperate gasp and realized that she was crying.

"Fuck, Perry," she said through her sobs. "I've lost him."

Hesitantly, Perry took her hand. He patted it softly, but Lois felt as if someone were crushing her windpipe. Unable to draw breath, she continued her strangled sobbing.

"Fuck, Perry," she said again. "Fuck."


	2. Chapter 2

From here on, this one-shot has been, with the help of ShadoLibrarian, expanded to full-sized-fic status. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Lois sat back in her chair, struggling to control her breathing. Perry was watching her from Clark's desk. They both ignored the people around them as the elevator doors opened, spewing forth the rest of the denizens of the newsroom who scurried to their places.

If anyone noticed anything odd happening at Clark's desk, at Perry holding Lois's hand and the both of them looking grief-stricken, they had the courtesy not to say anything. But Lois knew the rumor mill would be running full-tilt by break time.

Lois wiped the tears away from her face and found her voice. She knew what she had to do. "Perry, you haven't told personnel about Clark's resignation, have you?"

The older man shook his head. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"Then don't, okay?" Lois said. "He has some vacation, coming doesn't he?"

"He hasn't been back quite long enough. I can put him on compassionate leave."

"That's good," Lois said. She picked up the phone from Clark's desk and dialed the extension for the Planet's in-house travel agency. "Milly, this is Lois. I need to get to Wichita as fast as possible. I'll need a rental car too." She listened as Milly made the arrangements and gave her the flight information. Her tickets would be waiting for her at Berkowitz International. Her flight was in three hours. She had just enough time go get home, packed and to the airport.

She turned to Perry. "Could you take care of Jason for a couple days?"

He nodded. "What have you got in mind?"

She took a shaky breath and grabbed her purse. "I'm going after the father of my child. And I'm not coming back without him."

She saw Perry's eyes widen. "You mean…? I knew Richard wasn't Jason's biological father, but Clark?"

"You're the one who sent us to Niagara Falls," Lois reminded him. "And before you say anything, he didn't know until he came back. And… let's just say I've spent a lot of time in denial."

Q

Lois watched the city rush by. She held her bag to her body. She rubbed the fingers of one hand over the dusty seats of the taxi. Soon, the city faded away, to be replaced by the relatively barren land surrounding the airport. She had printed off a map to Smallville. She hadn't allowed herself to cry again.

She had met Martha, once. She remembered how beautiful the woman had looked, and had wondered at how such an amazing woman had raised such a bumbling son. Martha had cooked them a hell of a meal, and had shown Lois some of the work she had done while she had been Senator, and the fundraisers she'd done since, and Lois had thought that she never did anything less than exceptionally. And she'd raised the most caring man in the world; the man who'd grown up to be known to the world as Superman.

Lois wished she could have gotten to know her better.

She hoped that she could be even half the mother Martha was to her own son.

She swore that she would bring Jason's father back. Superman could be mysterious and explain away his absenteeism by describing the dangers that their family would face. Clark Kent had no such excuse.

The taxi stopped in front of her terminal. She passed him some money and slid from the car, looking up at the looming masthead. The last time she'd been in a jet, it had been shooting into space; it had been falling to the ground; it had been caught like an errant ball in a baseball stadium in front of hundreds of screaming fans.

Her face turned a little red as she thought of how she had fainted.

As she passed through security, television screens accosted her from every angle. Superman was still there, on every channel, saving people all over the world. She noticed though, that there were no shots of him smiling and waving after a save; there were no images of him receiving thanks from grateful families, no handshakes or kisses.

Other people had noticed, too. They wondered if this had become merely a job for Superman, or if perhaps he were suffering from depression. One person said Superman was getting bored; one said he didn't really care anymore. Another person, one he'd saved, said that despite the positive outcome of the railroad accident, he'd looked next to devastated the whole time.

She thought soon, they'd be staging some sort of intervention. No one liked to see Superman in trouble. She hoped that she would arrive in Smallville first, and drag him back to Metropolis with a grin on his face. She'd have him writing fantastic articles and saving people with a smile before he knew what hit him.

She remembered Martha, white streaked liberally through her auburn hair.

And Superman on the balcony, his hands shaking; she'd never seen him tremble before.

Maybe he'd at least talk to her. She thought it wasn't too optimistic to hope for that.

Q

The flight was calm, to Lois's relief. The stewardess and a few passengers recognized her, but gave her some privacy as she worked on her laptop. After several false starts, she decided to simply lay back and take a nap. She closed her eyes and cast her mind back to what she had told Perry: 'You're the one who sent us to Niagara Falls… let's just say I've spent a lot of time in denial.'

Lois knew, without any doubt, that she and Clark had gone to Niagara Falls on assignment. She clearly remembered the horrific pink bear rugs and heart shaped bed at the 'Honeymoon Haven'. She even remembered wondering how it was that Superman had shown up to save a boy from falling from the observation area, and noticing once again that when Superman was around, Clark wasn't.

But the three days after that were a blank – no, more than a blank. Until she had discovered she was pregnant with Jason, it hadn't even occurred to her that she had a hole in her memory. She had told her family and co-workers that in the weeks following Superman's disappearance and Clark's abrupt departure she'd had a fling, a drunken one-night stand with a man whose face she didn't recall. Everyone believed that Jason was born premature. No one connected her pregnancy with her trip to Niagara Falls.

But it had honestly never occurred to her that she'd had a 'fling' with Clark. Had she known who he really was at the time? She suspected she did and tried to picture how he came to tell her. It came in flashes – but whether it was memory or simply how it would have logically played out, she wasn't sure. She remembered packing the little hand pistol her father had given her. She even remembered loading blanks into it. Had she threatened to shoot Clark to see what he would do?

'You realize, of course, if you'd been wrong,' she heard Clark's voice say – only it wasn't Clark's voice at all. It was Superman's voice. 'Clark Kent would have been killed.'

'How? With a blank?'

More flashes – a building that wasn't like any she'd seen before, made of glass. Clark, finally without his glasses, making love to her. A talking head that disapproved of her corrupting his son. 'If you will not be Kal-El,' the head had told him, knowing she was listening. 'If you will live as one of them... love their kind as one of them, then it follows that you must become... one of them.'

Clark had walked willingly into the chamber that would make him human. Human so he could love her as a man. Human so they could make a life together.

Together they watched the disasters that were occurring around the world. Disasters that Superman could have dealt with – but there was no Superman, only Clark Kent.

'Maybe we ought to hire a bodyguard from now on,' Clark had suggested bitterly after taking a beating from a bully at a truck stop.

'I don't want a bodyguard,' Lois told him. 'I want the man I fell in love with.'

'I know that, Lois. And I wish he were here...'

She remembered watching him leave, to head back to the alien structure in the Arctic, the Fortress of Solitude. She watched him leave and didn't call him back.

"Ms. Lane?"

Lois opened her eyes to see the concerned face of a stewardess.

"Are you okay?" the stewardess asked. Lois realized her face was wet – she'd been crying and hadn't even realized it. It was her own fault he hadn't stayed. She had been in love with Superman, not Clark Kent.

'I said goodbye, Lois. You just looked right through me,' he had yelled at her only that morning. 'You don't even know me. You say these things: that you love me, but you don't know anything about me past the suit. If I was a normal guy, and wore tweed instead of spandex, you wouldn't even notice me.'

He'd been right – she hadn't noticed Clark, but she found herself wondering how much of it was because he worked so hard at being invisible. And he was very good at being unnoticed. Even in the Daily Planet newsroom, surrounded by some of the best observers of human nature in the world, few people noticed him. He was the invisible man, a chameleon. The man who wasn't there.

Soon, the plane was taxiing to the airport terminal in Wichita. She grabbed her carryon and hurried off the plane.

Once again Lois blessed Milly and her efficiency as a travel agent. A late model Camry was waiting for her at the car rental lot. She spread out the map on the seat beside her. South out of Wichita, about an hour's drive. It would be near dark by the time she got to Smallville, assuming she didn't take a wrong turn.

Q

Smallville was exactly as Lois had imagined – a small Midwest town with dusty streets and dusty buildings, dry and sun-bleached. She spotted an old fashioned diner tucked in amongst buildings that looked like they might actually date from the time of the Civil War.

The lights in the diner looked cheery and she realized she was tired and hungry. She'd been too upset when she left that morning to eat before getting on the plane. No food was served on the plane, aside from peanuts and crackers, and she hadn't wanted any alcohol. And then she'd been in too much of a hurry to get started toward Smallville to stop and grab a sandwich.

She walked into the diner and sat down in one of the few empty vinyl upholstered booths. The other patrons gave her curious looks - it was like a scene out of a movie. The men were in jeans and plaid shirts, the older women in print dresses, the younger ones in jeans and tee shirts. A middle-aged waitress dropped a menu onto the table. Lois ordered coffee as she perused the menu. When the waitress returned Lois asked for directions to the Kent Farm.

"You a friend of the Kents?" the waitress asked. Her nametag identified her as Maisie.

Lois nodded. "I'm a friend of Clark's, from Metropolis… Lois Lane."

"Clark's writing partner, right? The one who writes all those stories about Superman?"

"That's me…"

"Love your work," Maisie said. "The general store carries the Daily Planet and we all read it. Of course we read it because of Clark. Who'd've guessed he'd turn out to be a famous journalist… But, I guess you're here for Martha's funeral."

Lois nodded, bemused by the older woman's babbling.

"Tough break for him though," Maisie continued. "I mean him being in Metropolis and all when it happened. I hear he's the one who called Rachel to check on his mom when she didn't answer her cell or the house phone."

"Rachel?"

"Sheriff Harris," Maisie answered. Lois put down the menu and gave Maisie her order. Maisie hurried off to place the order on the wheel.

The door to the diner opened and the noise level in the dining room dropped and went back as the others identified the newcomer, a blonde woman about Lois's age dressed in a khaki state police style uniform. Maisie hurried over to the woman and pointed out Lois. The woman nodded and came over to Lois's table, slipping uninvited into the bench opposite her.

"Maisie tells me you're a friend of Clark's, from Metropolis," the woman said. "I'm Rachel Harris."

"Lois Lane."

Maisie brought over a cup of coffee for Rachel and refilled Lois's cup.

"You look like your picture," Rachel said.

Lois gave her a curious frown.

"Martha had a photo of you and a little boy, your son I guess, on the mantle," Rachel explained. "He's a good looking boy."

"Jason. He's six now," Lois told her. "Looks more like his father everyday."

Rachel nodded but didn't ask the next logical question, even though Lois could see it in her eyes: 'Is Clark the father?' Instead, "When I talked to him, Clark didn't think anybody from Metropolis would show up for the funeral."

"Actually, I'm here to try and talk him out of doing something galactically stupid," Lois admitted.

The other woman chuckled. "Good luck with that. I'm told Clark takes after his old man that way. 'Round here we have a saying: 'Stubborn as a Kent'. Once they get an idea in their heads, a stick of dynamite can't budge 'em."

Lois smiled. She'd never pictured Clark as 'stubborn'. It certainly didn't show at work, but who would even notice an invisible man digging in his heels. Then she realized that at work he _was_ stubborn in a very quiet way. It showed as dogged perseverance, a refusal to back away from a story until everything was wrung out of it. It showed in his refusal to suborn his ideals, ever.

"I can be very persuasive," Lois told Rachel. She hoped she was right, that she could be persuasive enough to convince him to return with her to Metropolis.

Rachel nodded. "Well, if you manage to talk him out of the one you're worried about, maybe you can talk him out of another stupid mistake."

"Oh?"

"Everybody in town knows he's already talked to Wes – he's a real estate attorney – about selling the farm. And I'm sure he'll get a good price for it. It's good land, a good well."

"But?"

"That land has been in the Kent family since the Civil War," Rachel told her. "Nathaniel Kent was one of the first sheriffs in this county. His son started the first newspaper in this part of the state. There's a lot of history here and I'd hate to see him chuck that all away just because with Martha gone, he thinks he doesn't have roots here anymore."

"You like him," Lois observed. Maisie brought the sandwich and fries Lois had ordered and placed them on the table.

Rachel nodded. "He's a good guy. Even when we were kids, he was always the one looking out for the underdog. But, we all knew he was destined for bigger things than a farm in Kansas. He always had that look, wanting to see what was beyond the horizon. I guess that's why he took himself around the world twice. But I do have some serious questions about this last time."

"Oh?" Lois tried to keep the worry out of her voice. She wasn't sure what Clark had told his hometown about his 'trip'.

"This wasn't Martha's first heart attack, you know," Rachel said softly. "Her first one happened a couple years after he left. It wasn't serious, but even so, you'd expect she'd want me to get in touch with her son. But she didn't. I went ahead and tried to find him anyway. I couldn't. I contacted the State Department to see if they could find him. Wherever he was, he wasn't using his passport. I even went so far as to check and see if he was serving time somewhere. I mean, him leaving like that _was_ a pretty fast decision, even though I don't believe for a minute he'd ever get in trouble like that. I mean, with Clark, what you see is what you get. He's a Boy Scout. That's just how he is."

"And here I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't know." Lois took a moment to consider her next statement. "You know he was adopted, don't you?"

The other woman nodded.

"Well, from what I understand, he got a lead on his natural parents and had to go check it out," Lois said.

"That shouldn't take nearly six years," Rachel pointed out.

"It can if where he was looking doesn't take kindly to strangers asking a lot of questions. He won't talk about it. I'm lucky he told me that much," Lois told her. "At work he's let everybody think he spent all that time communing with llamas."

"Do you think he found what he was looking for?" Rachel asked.

Lois shook her head. "If he had, I doubt he would have come back at all."

Rachel nodded and Lois sensed she understood exactly what Lois meant. Lois looked down and realized she'd finished her sandwich without realizing it.

"I guess I should get going," Lois said, looking at the bill Maisie had dropped on the table for her. The price was downright cheap as compared to Metropolis.

"Planning on staying out at the farm tonight?"

"Kind of depends on how he reacts to finding me on his doorstep," Lois admitted. "I didn't let him know I was coming."

"Well, I figure I should warn you," Rachel said. "A couple of Martha's friends volunteered to help him clean up the house and get everything ready for the open house after the funeral, and he wouldn't have any part of it… but I also know Maisie's got something in back to take out to him."

Rachel disappeared into the diner's kitchen and reappeared moments later carrying a covered casserole dish. "I know he's trying not to be a bother to anyone, but…"

"But knowing Clark, he's forgotten to eat and there's nothing in the house," Lois completed for her. "I think he sometimes forgets that he doesn't have to do everything himself."

"Look, Ms. Lane, make sure you tell him he isn't alone in this," Rachel told her. "We're all here for him."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Another disaster that needed Superman's attention. This one, a tsunami in the Philippines. Luckily the emergency warning system had worked and most of the coastal areas had been evacuated but there were still people stranded and in danger because the roads were washed away. He spent several hours rescuing families from hilltops and delivering medical supplies and food to villages cut off by the lack of roads. Then he started clearing roads so that relief trucks could get through.

He was utterly exhausted by the time he got back to the farmhouse, exhausted in body and soul. Physical exhaustion didn't happen very often but he hadn't slept since before finding his mother dead and even Superman needed _some_ sleep.

He took a hot shower to get the mud and filth off and slipped into sleep shorts and a t-shirt. He found he was actually too tired to fall asleep and so he went down to the living room and settled in on the sofa. AMC was running **Anatomy of a Murder**. Not one of his favorites but it would probably relax him enough to get some sleep.

He finally fell asleep thinking 'Michigan doesn't connect to Canada that way…'

Q

Lois drove up to the farmhouse, and hobbled up to the door, bag and casserole dish in hand. She had expected the unlocked door – small town naivety – but she was very surprised to see Clark camped out on the couch. A blanket wrapped around his waist and a wet spot on the couch marking where his hair was drying, he looked curiously blank, as though exhaustion had caused all of his muscles to totally relax.

She had been planning to sleep on the couch herself, not wanting to intrude any more than she had to. Now, though, left without a couch to sleep on, she was faced with either having to return to her car or climbing the stairs, un-chaperoned, to find a suitable bed.

Her curiosity, and her aversion to sleeping in cars, overwhelmed her and she started up the narrow stairs. The first door she came upon was obviously the master bedroom; a large oak bed took up most of the room, and boxes covered the floor.

She continued down the hall and placed her hand on the next door. It was slightly open, but she hesitated before entering.

She couldn't help it. A smile spread over her face as she saw the room, the bed unmade, the red comforter rumpled and revealing plaid sheets underneath. There was a mahogany desk in one corner, his work laptop set up, framed pictures collecting dust. A football jersey hung from the open closet door. Looking inside, she noted the abundance of plaid button up shirts.

Putting down her bag, she stared dumbly at the casserole dish. She darted downstairs quickly to put it in the fridge, noting that the prediction that it would be barren was absolutely correct. On the way back upstairs, she saw that there was one more room at the end of the hall.

It was a bathroom, and she inhaled sharply when she saw the state of it.

There was mud everywhere – on the floor, the walls of the shower, on the pair of boots, which had been hastily removed, on the red and blue suit thrown haphazardly on the counter.

Her hands shook as she reached out to it. It didn't feel like she remembered: warm and smooth to the touch. It was cold without a person in it, limp and without meaning. Just a spandex suit, really.

Just a spandex suit.

It had blinded her. It blinded everyone, really. The whole world looked at him and saw a God, wrapped in this spandex suit. That same world looked at Clark Kent and they saw, if they ever saw, a simple man, farm boy, the less impressive of the infamous Daily Planet duo.

Her fist filled with mud and fabric, she felt her fear and doubt wash away. Because this was just a suit. The man under it was exactly the same.

Q

Clark awoke to sunlight coming through the east windows and the sound of someone puttering around the kitchen. He must have been more tired than he realized to spend all night on the sofa, not to mention not hearing someone come into the house.

The heartbeat seemed uncannily familiar. _Lois?_ He hurriedly found where he'd left his glasses and shoved them onto his face.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing jeans and a t-shirt that read 'I (heart) the Big Apricot'. "You're awake. I thought farm boys were early risers."

"Lois… what are…?" He wrapped the quilt more tightly around himself.

"I've got coffee going and I collected some eggs and you had bread in the freezer so we can have eggs and toast for breakfast unless you want me to warm up the casserole Maisie sent over."

"Lois, what are you doing here?" Clark managed to get out.

She shrugged. "Perry told me what happened and that you were planning on leaving the Planet for good, this time. So I flew out…. That's what friends do. They help each other." She made it sound so reasonable. "So here I am. You were fast asleep when I got here. I didn't want to wake you."

'Perry told me what happened,' she had said. But she hadn't mentioned Superman. After all the clues he'd left, she still hadn't made the connection? It was just possible that the block he'd put on her memories of their time together had been more powerful than he'd thought. It was just possible that she would never be able to realize that Superman and Clark Kent were the same person.

Or maybe she was just trying to make him feel better by ignoring the superhero. He was afraid to find out.

"You went and collected eggs?" he asked, focusing on what she had said earlier.

"Don't sound so surprised," Lois told him. "I may be a city girl but I grew up all over the world. I know about chickens."

Clark just stared at her a long moment. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Lois Lane?" he asked. The Lois he knew would _never_ have admitted knowing anything about livestock or farms.

She laughed. "Just another side of me you didn't know about, Smallville. Sometimes, people can surprise you. But if you tell anybody at the Planet, I swear I'll kill you."

"Who'd believe me?" he asked.

"Exactly," she agreed with a smile. She jerked her head toward the kitchen. "How do you want your eggs?"

"Um, scrambled is fine," he managed to get out. "Let me just get some clothes on, okay?"

Q

Lois heaved a silent sigh of relief that Clark was accepting her presence here in Smallville as she broke the fresh eggs into the bowl and began to whisk them into a yellow froth. She wasn't a diva in the kitchen, but over the years since Jason's birth she had mastered a few dishes that didn't have chocolate as the main ingredient. Scrambled eggs was one, stir-fry was another.

Before Richard left he had done much of the cooking. On her nights it had been take-away. Since Richard's departure, she had been working on increasing her kitchen repertoire.

She heard the floor creak and looked over to see Clark standing in the kitchen doorway dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. It suited him and he looked more relaxed than she ever remembered seeing him. As Superman, he was tall and majestic, always in control. In the newsroom, he was a master of words who could hardly make himself heard. But here, he was simply Clark Kent, Martha Kent's dutiful, and now grieving, son who had made good in the big city.

"Eggs are almost ready," Lois told him.

He nodded, poured himself a mug of coffee and sat at the worn kitchen table.

"When's the funeral?" she asked.

"At three," Clark told her. "Everything's been handled. Turns out after Mom had her first attack, she and Pastor Linquist sat down and planned everything out for… She didn't want me or Ben to have to worry about it."

Lois had been tending the eggs in the old cast iron skillet but she turned to look back at him when she heard his voice crack. His shoulders were shaking. She set the skillet on a cold burner then stepped over to him, rubbing his shoulders the way she did Jason's when he had a bad day at school.

"Clark, your mom was a very wise and thoughtful woman," Lois said softy. "She didn't want you, or Ben, to have to be making these sorts of decisions while you were still in shock. And I bet she knew that you'd be beating yourself up for not being able to do more, for not being there with her, for being stuck halfway across the country when it happened."

She moved around to look at his face. He was trying to blink away tears, but water had already collected on the bottoms of his glasses frames.

"Clark, I know you don't believe it. But there's nothing you could have done," she told him, hoping he would hear her. "And there are a couple other things I do know. I know she wanted you to go on with your life and be happy and I know you shouldn't be making any major decisions right now."

"A little late for that," Clark mumbled, wiping his face. He pulled his glasses off but lowered his face as he cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt. She wondered how she could possibly have missed it all this time. The same profile, the same strong jaw. Did the primary coloured suit really make such a difference?

"Perry hasn't accepted your resignation," Lois told him. "He put you on compassionate leave."

"Why?" His glasses were back on his face.

"Because I asked him to," Lois said simply. She sat down in the chair closest to him. "Clark, I need you to listen to me. I mean really _hear_ me. You're my friend and I don't have very many people I can actually call friends."

Clark opened his mouth as if to protest and she put a finger on his lips to hush him.

"You've been a good friend and God knows I haven't been a very good one back," she continued. "Maybe I missed that day in school, I don't know… But when Jason and I were dealing with Richard leaving, you were there getting Jason from school, taking him to ball games with Jimmy, making sure we all got fed. You stepped in to help when we needed it. And now it's my turn.

"I admit to having selfish reasons too. Jason thinks you're the greatest and I like having you around even if I don't show it."

"Lois, you only notice me when you're waiting for your coffee," Clark said indignantly.

"That's where you're wrong, Clark," she said. "The night before last I found out something pretty big, and the person I looked for yesterday morning to talk to about it was _you_ and you weren't there. And believe me, I wanted you there." A mischievous grin crossed her face as she remembered the thought she'd had that morning. "You're my favourite person to abuse, you know. Not many people would put up with me the way you have. My dad used to say I'd try the patience of Job."

He was silent for a long moment, staring into his half-empty mug.

"Lois, you can campaign for the existence of a weird, abusive friendship between us all you want, but when I tried to say good-bye six years ago, you acted like you didn't even hear me," he finally said. His voice was so low and loaded with something that might have been hurt; it might also have been anger.

She sighed. After baring her soul, they were back to that. He still thought that six years before she hadn't cared enough to notice he'd cleared out his desk. And she found herself wondering why she hadn't noticed her best friend leaving her. "Clark, I may not have heard you say good-bye six years ago. Maybe I simply wasn't expecting you to really go. Or maybe it took you being gone for me to realize how much I missed having you around."

"You never mentioned me to Richard."

"I never mentioned a lot of things to Richard."

"And you didn't seem to care that much when I came back."

"You'd been gone a long time and…" '…and it seemed like you didn't want to be my friend again,' the thought came. Aloud she continued: "You might have come back with a Filipino bride and a couple bambinos. And Richard was there."

"And now?"

"Richard isn't here." She said it simply. She looked over at the skillet of eggs still sitting on the cold burner. "The eggs are cold. Do you want me to warm them up in the microwave? Or maybe just make sandwiches."

Q

They ate their egg and toast sandwiches in silence. Clark studied his companion surreptitiously between bites. He'd seen her in jeans and a t-shirt before, on weekends when he and Jimmy came to pick up Jason for a Saturday outing. But she looked different, somehow. More relaxed, more… more like the Lois he knew before, the Lois who had actually realized who he was, the Lois whose passion for truth was only equaled by her passion for Superman.

'Richard isn't here,' she had said, but he wasn't sure what meant. Richard had left nearly a year ago. Clark had tried to not listen in on their arguments, but it had been hard not to sometimes, especially when Jason was left crying. Richard was a good man, a caring man, but he hadn't been able to handle the fact that Lois cared for Superman and Jason was Superman's son.

Clark had spent quite a number of nights trying to comfort Jason when the yelling at home got to be too much. Clark wasn't sure if Lois knew how often Superman had taken Jason White for short flights around the city.

"What did you mean when you said, 'Richard isn't here'?" he finally asked.

"Exactly what I said," Lois said. "Frankly I'm surprised he stayed as long as he did after he found out about Jason. Richard was a good man, but he couldn't handle coming in second. And thinking I'd lied to him about it… It was ugly there for a while."

"I know," Clark said. He got up and refilled their coffees. It gave him something to do and he needed to be doing something, anything. He went back to the counter and stared out the window at the fields beyond.

"I know you know," Lois said quietly. "Hell, Richard was upset with me at the end because you seemed to know me better than he did and you'd been gone for more than five years. He hadn't realized what a harridan I could be. Five years together and he didn't know me at all."

"And you don't know me," Clark pointed out quietly.

"Maybe I know more than you think," she said, coming to stand beside him to look out the window. "Do you know what the biggest problem with the invisible man is?"

"No, what?" Clark asked, wondering at the change of subject. The sudden jump was _so_ Lois.

Lois looked up at him, studying his face as though she was trying to figure out something.

He cleared his throat nervously. "What's the biggest problem with the invisible man?" he prompted.

"He's invisible," she said as though the answer was obvious. "The people around him never know if he's there or not and pretty soon they forget he _could_ be there, or should be. They look right through him because he's invisible. It's a great trick if you're a detective or a snoop – nobody knows he's there. It's not so great for interpersonal relationships. I mean, how do you get close to someone who refuses to take off their cloak of invisibility?"

Is that what she thought of him? That he was invisible?

"I was only invisible to you, Lois," he said.

"Clark, if I took a poll of the bullpen, I guarantee only two people there could tell me that the color of your eyes is the same as Jason's. Two people could tell me that you get your ties from thrift shops, and that you deliberately buy off the rack suits and don't get them tailored. Maybe one of them could tell me you like your coffee with two creams and three sugars and you prefer whole milk lattes over mochas."

"Lois, why are you here?" he asked. He had thought – no, hoped – he'd make a clean break. He would leave the _Planet_ and Metropolis, stay a short time in Smallville and start over somewhere away from the heartbreak that was Lois Lane.

"I told you I had selfish reasons," she said. "Last year Richard left. That hurt me, but not as much as it hurt Jason. His _daddy_ walked out on him. I'm not going to let you walk out on him, too. I told Perry I wasn't coming back without you and I meant it."

"I wasn't planning…" he began.

"You weren't planning what? Walking out on Jason?" she demanded. "And how were you planning on being there for him if you're off gallivanting around the world? How were you planning on taking him to ball games or movies or dinner if you're not there?"

"Lois, I'm not who you think I am," Clark said softly. His coffee was cold but he didn't want to use his heat vision to warm it up. He grimaced and set the mug on the counter.

"You are Clark Joseph Kent, adopted son of Jonathan and Martha Kent," she responded. "You're six-four, about two-hundred twenty pounds, blue eyes, black hair, and you trip over the pattern in linoleum – which is kind of odd considering you played quarterback in high school and they're not generally klutzes. You were raised on a Kansas farm and you're an inveterate do-gooder and crusader from a long line of do-gooders and crusaders. If you weren't a reporter, you'd be a cop or a fireman."

She paused and he stared at her, not sure of what he was supposed to make of her observations or conclusions.

She went on, apparently oblivious to his confusion. "You pretend to be a coward, but I've never seen you back down from a real fight, even when you probably should have, even when Perry told you to drop it. I'd wondered where Jason got his stubborn streak. God knows it wasn't from my side of the family."

His gut clenched as he realized what she had said. "You think I'm Jason's…" And for a second, he was sure that she knew who he was. She had to, because otherwise, why would she think—

She shrugged. "I don't actually remember doing the deed, except in dreams," she said. Her voice was low, as though she was avoiding having to actually say it aloud. "I told everyone I'd gotten drunk and hooked up with some guy I didn't know the name of. It was better than letting people think I'd seduced you and ran you off, or that I'd finally gotten my claws into Superman and it didn't work out."

Clark simply stared at her, frozen in horror. "Is that what you think really happened?" he finally got out, unable to tell which of the two proffered scenarios she believed was true.

"I don't really know what happened, Clark, except that you saying goodbye was just one of things I didn't notice around that time. Like three days missing from my memory; I didn't even realize it until I found out I was pregnant."

Clark found himself gaping at her and snapped his mouth shut. She sounded sad and bitter – even worse, if possible, than she had sounded when she and Richard had decided to split up.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" he asked.

"Because until yesterday, I hadn't realized exactly how badly I'd screwed things up," she said. "I don't blame you if you think I'm shallow and self-centered. God knows it's the truth. Introspection has never been one of my strong points."

"And what happened yesterday?" he asked. He was almost afraid to hear her answer.

"I needed to you to be there, but you weren't because you needed _me _to be there and you didn't think I could. You didn't think I was capable of caring." She had turned away from him and her shoulders were shaking. He realized abruptly that she was crying and she didn't want him to know.

"Lois, I'm sorry, but so many things were out of control yesterday," Clark said, placing his hands on her shoulders. At least she didn't flinch away from his touch. "They still are. Out of control, I mean."

"Clark, just promise me you won't do anything… undoable… until things are back in control?"

"I don't know if things will ever get back under control."

She turned to look at him, her face wet with streaks of tears. "They will. You've had a terrible loss but over time things will get easier. The hurt will never completely go away, but it _will_ get easier. Just don't shut out the people who want to help."

"She's right, you know," Ben Hubbard's voice intruded. The heavy set man was standing in the doorway. Clark hadn't even realized someone had driven up, much less actually walked in the house. He was in worse shape than he thought. How soon would it be before he made a similar mistake of inattention while on a rescue? How soon before people noticed that Superman wasn't himself?

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything but your phone's off the hook," Ben said. He nodded to Lois. "Miss Lane. Sheriff Harris said you were in town. Frankly we weren't expecting anybody from back east."

"Well, considering how often Clark's been there for me, I figure it's time I returned the favor," Lois said.

Clark found himself gaping at her again. She wiped the wetness from her face and gave him a crooked smile. "Did you really think I didn't notice how often you ended up taking care of Jason because of all the crap going on with me and Richard? Or how often you covered for me with Perry?"

"You knew about that?" Clark asked. He'd lost count of how many times he had lied to Perry about where she was because she had to deal with some emergency with either Richard or Jason. He assumed she didn't know or care. Apparently he'd been wrong.

"I should probably go get cleaned up," Lois said.

Clark just nodded. He'd cleaned up the bathroom at superspeed before coming down for breakfast. But had she seen the condition he'd left the bathroom in when he'd come back last night? He'd been too exhausted after his shower to clean it up when he had finished scrubbing the mud off of himself. But if she had seen it, then…

"Lois, why are you here?" he asked once again. She was almost to the stairs.

"Is it so unbelievable that I'm worried about you?" she asked, climbing the stairs without looking back.

Clark heard a deep chuckle coming from Ben. "So that's your little red head girl?" Ben asked.

"What?" Clark suddenly wondered if Ben was getting senile. Lois's hair was brown. Then the reference clicked in. "Oh, I always figured Lois as being more like Lucy."

Ben chuckled again. "Well, you had to wonder why Charlie Brown always came back for more abuse." The older man studied him. "How are you doing, son?"

Clark opened his mouth to protest Ben calling him 'son' but decided against it. Ben had been Mom's companion and confidante for nearly seven years. They had even talked about getting married and moving away from Smallville, but they had decided against it when Clark came back from his fool's errand.

"I'm…" Clark began. "I don't know. I don't know how I'm doing. I go along fine and then…"

"And then the bottom falls out?" Ben asked gently.

Clark nodded.

"Son, I know you don't want to hear any advice from an old man like me," Ben said. "But don't do anything right now you're going to regret down the road."

"Like selling the farm?" Clark asked. "Mom was going to, so why shouldn't I?"

"That was before you came back and she realized there might be a chance of grandkids," Ben said. They had moved into the living room and Ben nodded to the photo of Lois and Jason on the mantle. "This isn't a bad place to raise a family and you can always do what Martha did, lease out the acreage to Wayne or Jim."

Clark could hear the shower running upstairs. But the running water didn't cover the sounds of her crying.


End file.
